Divine or Divination

She knew better to have gone to that woman's place. She had been warned. But curiosity had compelled her. Now, all that she could think about is how terrible a choice it had been. So, now she would be living out the consequences of her foolishness. She was sure of that, by all that was right and holy. Even if it had been with the best of intentions.

Charity Griffin had spent her whole life within the borders of her small town in Mississippi. She felt both safe and imprisoned by the seclusion she accepted, far out of the reach of the outside world.

But she had stayed faithful to the social mores there. At least for the twenty-eight years she had been under their invisible lock and key! She knew the tongues would be alit if anyone even dared to inch out. The town was too small not to notice any infractions.

She just prayed fervently, that her trip to see the new Mrs. Brownfield would be solely confirmed as to welcome her into town and nothing more. Charity was supposed to be accompanied by Lucy Attaway, but Lucy had sent word to her the night before, stating that her two young children were running a fever and she would not be able to accept the Brownfield invitation, after all.

There had been no other young women close by from the church to join Charity because of the late notification. So, Charity had made tea cakes to bring for her welcome visit. She had conceded that chatting with someone around her age would be good for both of them.

Mr. Brownfield would be at work at the newspaper during her mid-morning appointment and girl talk would be nice. Especially with a girl from another place. "Her home might have been Paris or London or Rome, but anywhere would be more exciting than here, she thought."

But Charity and Lucy had heard the story of how the Brownfields had met and married in a whirlwind during a trip he took for the paper to Memphis, Tennessee. There had been talk that Ed Brownfield, almost thirty years older than Angie Staples-Brownfield, had most certainly, been "hoodwinked" for his money.

Ed was from one of the oldest families around Mississippi. He couldn't be coined wealthy, but he was far from living meagerly, either. And Angie had apparently come out of nowhere into this widower's life.

The town had rallied around Ed when Mary Helen had died. There were no children in that marriage, but Mary Helen had been dutiful otherwise. And it had been quite shocking when only five weeks later, the trip to Memphis had taken place.

But men, it seemed to Charity, could get by with indiscretions. Especially the well to do ones. And so, the pastor had encouraged the young women of his congregation to welcome the new bride.

Charity's mother had frowned upon that idea, though. She felt her daughter too naive and impressionable, already. She cautioned her rather sternly to maintain her right standing.

Charity wore her favorite dress, the periwinkle one with sharp blue lace at the collar. She had made it herself. She didn't want to be prideful, but it made her feel pretty. Everyone knew she was a spinster and had been overlooked by many of the once eligible men about town. The color, together with her grey eyes and dark hair, made her skin glow. The dress accented her small-framed body.

She wrapped the cookies she had made with a cloth and lavender ribbon to give as a welcome gift. And then she marched on with anticipation and dread to the Brownfield house, a two-story wooden Victorian, painted light yellow. At the door, she gave a brisk knock, but there was no answer. This left her more than a little perturbed. Had she been rebuffed? Maybe she got the date or time wrong?

As the thoughts swirled around in her head, and after a second knock, this time with more gusto, an unfamiliar female voice echoed out from the yard, "Back here, please!"

Charity followed the voice to the cottage gate behind the big house. There Angie stood, not at all what she had imagined her. She was dressed plainly in a light blue frock and had her hair covered in a colorful kerchief that didn't quite match the color of her dress. A few strands of blonde tendrils poked out, as if in defiance. She was taller and "fuller" than she had expected, too. When Angie smiled and reached out to shake her hand, she got an overwhelming sensation of suppressed excitement.

Angie stated, "We will be having tea in here, this is my place." Charity was sure she had gasped loud enough for Angie to hear, but she continued, "Ed wants me to be comfortable enough before I move into the big house with him."

The cottage itself was both practical and delightfully decorated for any guest to enjoy. Charity just hadn't expected the guest to be the new bride. But "that is none of my concern," she thought.

Angie apologized for a lack of flowers for the table where they would have their tea. "I had planned on picking some out of the garden, but I couldn't find any shears."

"Then there wouldn't have been room for these tea cakes I brought to you," Charity replied. Angie laughed and then they both seemed to relax as they sat, and the tea was poured.

"Our church wanted to extend a welcome to you. I hope you don't mind that's it's only me. Pastor Hill thought that ladies our age would make you feel the most comfortable. Lucy couldn't be here because her children are ill," and "I, well...I hope that the pastor's presumption hasn't offended you, either. He truly means well."

"No worries, really," Angie replied, as she unwrapped the cookies. She then quickly expressed, "So, Charity, tell me all about yourself."

This (revelation of herself) was not how Charity had envisioned their conversation journey traveling. She was slightly taken aback and caught off guard. And, as the seconds elapsed, it felt more like minutes as she collected her thoughts. How could she express the dull and boring, unfulfilled life of an unwedded woman of her age into something that was worth talking about?

Charity cleared her throat, and began, "To be honest, there's not much to tell. I'm not married, never have been. Not even close to it, really. I still live in the same house I was born in. I was most likely a disappointment to my parents because I was born a daughter and not a son, if truth be told. Although, they would never say. My mother can't get me married off and my father just needed help around the farm, you know."

"Did you ever want to leave?"

"Almost every day of my life."

"So, why didn't you?"

Charity, again shocked, began to tremble, and cried out that she found solace in books and that she lived in those adventures. She couldn't even bring herself to make eye contact with Angie. She was bewitched by her and her questions. They seemed to look into her soul. And why, in the name of God, was she divulging herself to a stranger?

Angie sensed her apprehension and decided to give way to making her more at ease. "Do you want to know one of my secrets, dear Charity?"

"I am not Ed's wife. I am his illegitimate daughter. It was his lame idea to make up the ruse about me being his wife to avoid the moral indignity that would surely follow if he were to be found out!"

Charity's hands shook so much that she had to put her teacup down before she spilled what was left. To make matters worse, the shameless Angie began to laugh. "Now calm, down, my dear. It's going to be okay. We all have our skeletons, right?"

Charity quickly decided she didn't really want to find out about anymore skeletons or ghosts. Thankfully, only secret she had kept close was the book of poems she wrote daily. She didn't dare make the slightest move to gaze at Angie's dark brown eyes, lest she discover that. "They say the eyes are windows to the soul," she recalled.

Charity nervously swallowed her last bit of tea as Angie unexpectedly grabbed her hand and cup. "Now place your cup upside down onto the saucer," Angie teasingly demanded. Charity complied but had no idea why.

Momentarily, Angie scooped her cup up and began gazing into the contents. Charity could not imagine what she was looking at. Was she going mad? The only thing that could be left were leaves from the tea. "I'm sorry, I'll wash it out for you!"

Again, Angie laughed and said, "No dear, I'm going to give you a read."

Before Charity could beg off, Angie began her mystic discourse. "This symbol I see is a closed book. That means you have had a secret longing for some time. And the book is close by an open bag. That means you have felt trapped."

Charity was the one now that wanted to laugh. Was she really supposed to believe in all of this hocus pocus? Anybody could have guessed that about her and she had already shared the same information to Angie. But the nonsense continued.

"That was all about the past, but now for the future, I see a tent and a bush very close together, along with a rabbit. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Okay, sure, of course. Tell me."

"You must ready yourself for unprepared travel, Charity. You will have an opportunity to answer your heart's desire. But it must remain a secret and you will need to be brave."

Amusement quickly changed to undeniable fear as Charity's gaze met the depths of Angie's eyes as a devilish smile crossed her lips. She thanked her for the tea and said she must be off to home, almost running, her heart pounding and her throat dry.

When Charity made it safely back home, she ran to her room, locked her door and began to open her Bible and to ask God for His forgiveness. She read: Deuteronomy 18:10-11: “There shall not be found among you anyone who makes his son or his daughter pass through the fire, one who uses divination, one who practices witchcraft, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer, or one who casts a spell, or a medium, or a spiritist, or one who calls up the dead.”

She told her parents she felt ill and would skip supper. It wasn't a lie. She spoke nothing about her meeting with Angie and went promptly back to her privacy with only her thoughts.

Sometime after midnight, Charity was startled by a soft tap at her bedroom window. Outside were both Ed and Angie, urging Angie to lift the window. She complied and Ed spoke with stern authority, "Ready yourself immediately and meet us outside with your belongings. You have no choice." He had a gun in his hand.

On the way to Memphis, suitcase in hand, Ed told Charity he knew that his daughter had foolishly disclosed their secret, and he assured her she would be safe in Angie's old apartment that he still kept. He would get her a job at the paper there. "It will all be fine if you keep your mouth shut. Remember I know your parents." The threat was real, and Charity understood the implications.

A year and a half had passed and many changes to Charity's life had occurred. Her parents had finally forgiven her for her abrupt and surreptitious fleeing. She had married the Memphis newspaper editor's son. And she was now publishing her poems in the society section. She had even been asked to read them at the Ladies Auxiliary meetings. She never once spoke of the tea reading or the evil Brownfelds to anyone.

(Although she didn't believe in divinations, she did believe that God had worked everything out for her best interest, and she had indeed attained her heart's desires.)

References & Information:

https://mystictearoom.com/wiki/A_Basic_List_of_Tea_Leaf_Symbols

Gallery video of his hauntingly beautiful paintings. Many times, he used teapots and cups and saucers in them.